


Moto Grand Prix

by arazialotis



Category: Actor RPF, Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 20:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17874680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arazialotis/pseuds/arazialotis
Summary: A request from @acortez82(tumblr) An idea I liked so much I decided to to a little series out of it. Jared invites Jensen to not just any motorcycle race but the biggest one of all. The final race of the grand prix happening in Valencia, Spain. A hot rival between seasoned veteran Suarez and new to circuits Esposio makes the excitement buzz in the air. Although knowing nothing about the sport, Jensen can’t help but root for the rookie. And just perhaps, he will leave Spain with more than just the love of the track.





	Moto Grand Prix

As soon as the clapperboard snapped down, marking the end of filming and the start of winter break, Jensen raced to his trailer; bags already packed, wanting nothing more to run back home to the warm sunshine in Austin. While the rest of the cast and crew were celebrating with champagne, he was putting together the last bits of his travel details. A knock on the trailer door startled him from his thoughts and he went to answer, dreading anything that could keep him at work longer. Jared appeared on the other side, bundled up from the chill up yet still beaming with delight.

“I was hoping to catch you before you rushed off.” He laughed, his breath fogging in the air. Jensen nodded his head, directing him to come in. The wind slammed the door shut behind them. “Man, I am so sick of this weather.”

“You and me both, brother.” Jensen chuckled. “When I signed up to become an actor, I thought it’d be palm trees and beaches. Had I known they were going to ship us off to Canada, I might have thought twice. So uh, you doing anything fun with your time off?”

“Actually that is what I wanted to talk to you about.” Jared started. “But first let me give you an early Christmas gift.” He said, handing Jensen an envelope.

Jensen eyed him suspiciously before taking it from him. “With it still being over a month away, I’m afraid I can’t yet reciprocate the gesture.”

“Would you shut up and just open it.” Jared playfully ordered.

He ripped open the seal with his thumb and pulled out its contents. His eyes widened with shock as he tried to process what he was seeing. He looked at Jared for clarification but received nothing other than a smile. He held two tickets in his hand, one for an airline and the other for some type of sporting event.

Jared couldn’t contain his excitement any longer. “I scored tickets to the MotoGP!”

“The what?” Jensen asked, still confused.

“Dude.” Jared chastised. “Grand Prix motorcycle racing. The last race of the year… In Valencia! To determine the winner. Esposio is so close to taking the lead…”

“Wait. Wait. Hold up. So you are taking me to Spain?” Jensen clarified.

“I’m taking you to Spain!” Jared exclaimed.

“Dude!” Jensen went in for a quick bro hug. “This is going to be awesome. God, how can I repay you?”

***

A few short weeks later, both Jensen and Jared had ventured to Spain. Seeing sights, experiencing local cuisine, and breathing in the glorious ocean air revived their spirits after months in the desolate Canadian winter. But the main event had yet to take place. Jared couldn’t keep his mouth shut the entire time. Naturally it caught Jensen up to speed. Apparently, many people were rooting for the racer named Esposio. It was his first tour and he was neck in neck with a long seasoned veteran of the tracks, Suarez. Esposio needed to place first to take the championship, and on top of that Suarez had the home track advantage.

Jared had made a vast understatement when he said he had scored seats. The VIP Lounge which they had access to was positioned right over the Ducati and Yamaha garages and just past the finish line, allowing them a great view of all the action. Jared was already schmoozing with other high rollers in the lounge but Jensen prefered to keep quiet, leaned up against the railing and watching the commotion in the pits. Part of him even wished he could be down there, working in the trenches, but knew he’d screw something up.

Anxiety and excitement heighted as the time for the race drew nearer and nearer. Jared pointed out Esposio, on a Ducati bike numbered 34, decked out in a grey and red uniform. The rider appeared nervous, looking back and forth between other drivers, checking and rechecking his bike’s mechanics. Jensen could understand why. From what Jared had explained, everything for him counted on this last race.

Before the crowd could even realize it, the race had begun. The bikes whizzed passed the stands; already heading into the first corner. Jensen gulped against a lump in his throat, realizing how close the bikes were to each other and how low they got at each turn, the drivers’ knees literally scraping the edge of the track. He kept a sharp eye on 34, dreadfully anticipating a crash at any moment as the bike weaved in and out, skillfully attempting to move closer to the lead.

The bikes drove out of sight, but the crowd could still make out the whirring of the engines. They grew distant, the seconds drawing out, the roar slowly building up until the bikes were visible again. A few made their way closer to the line and flew by once again. The crowd roared, Suarez already taking a place in the top three. Another large group sped past with Esposio caught in the middle. Finally a few stragglers joined the rest, and just like that the first lap was over.

Jensen felt a slap on his shoulder, which drew him from the trance.

“So first lap over, what do you think?” Jared boomed, energized from the action.

“Man. It is crazy. You think they’d let us test run after they are finished?” He playfully questioned.

Jared chuckled. “Dude, you would die before you even got to the first corner.”

“I know how to ride a bike.” Jensen rolled his eyes.

They watched the group take another corner, darting low to the ground. “Not like that.” Jared remarked.

“Not like that.” Jensen agreed.

The racers took each lap at incredible speed, the entire thing couldn’t last over an hour. He had trouble keeping track of the leaders and laps as most everything was conducted in Spanish. So instead he found himself keeping his eyes fixed on Esposio. He was sure tactics and strategy were involved but to what extent he had no idea. Esposio seemed to keep in third or fourth place a majority of the race, weaving in and out, darting dangerously in between other bikes. Jensen was simply amazed.

When it came down to the final two laps, a hush seemed to come over the crowd as everyone waited with anticipation to see if Esposio would be able to pull ahead. Even Jared’s bubbly expression was replaced by intense concentration. Almost as if Esposio had been holding back on the gas pedal, a burst of speed gave way taking him to second place.

The distance between first and second was noticeable and they were both going full speed, Esposio persistently chasing Suarez. The final lap sounded and Suarez quickly glanced behind. Both took the first curve tightly and little by little Esposio was gaining on him. Jensen was practically holding his breath.

Coming up on the fifth turn of the track, they were neck and neck, fighting for control of the inside corner. Suarez beat him to it, pulling a bit further ahead. Esposio had caught back up by the eigth curve, and again started the dance for control. Jensen watched on the screen as Suarez seemed to jolt his bike towards Esposio, almost as a threat. Esposio backed off, taking the outside of the curve, but then came speeding up on Suarez taking advantage at the ninth and tenth.

With only four more turns left, the crowd began to hold their breath with Jensen. Esposio held the lead but not by much. Both riders were so focused on the track ahead, yearning so badly for the win. With only a few more nail biting minutes left, the gap between Esposio and Suarez began to grow and grow as did the hope for victory. Finally, Esposio crossed the finish line and the crowd erupted with a roar. Esposio continued down the track throwing his hands up in the air. His hands came back down on the bike before popping a wheelie, gaining more cheers from the crowd.

As he made his way around the track once more for the victory lap, celebrating with the crowd, it was clear some Suarez fans were leaving the stands with sour faces. Esposio went to the Ducati pit and joined in dancing with the crew, jumping up into the coach’s arms and being lifted into the air.

During the time between the initial celebration and the podium, Jensen finally was able to part with the track to do a bit of schmoozing and grab some hors d'oeuvres. By the time he made his way back, Mayer had already took his place in third and Suarez on second - sporting a clenched jaw that raged with jealousy. As the announcer continued Jensen could barely translate, something about a new driver making history, Clelia Esposio, and the crowd erupted again as the racer made his way to stage.

The red and gray helmet came off with a flow of long hair shining in the sun and Jensen was struck. Time slowed as she made her way to the middle, accepting a medal and trophy. She kissed the announcer on the cheek and laughed before throwing both her hands up into the air with a yell. Time came back to speed as her team raided the podium with shaken up champagne bottles spraying her. She continued to the laugh and joined in the riot as Suarez grudgingly left the stage.

“So we coming back next year?” Jared asked Jay.

“You never told me Esposio was a girl.” He said breathless.

“Didn’t I?” Jared seemed confused. “I’m pretty sure I did. You interested?” He teased.

“Shut up.” Jensen shoved him with his elbow.

Jared chuckled. “Good, less competition for me.”

Jensen pleaded with any powers-that-be he’d be able to meet her.

***

The following morning, after a brisk morning bike ride, Jensen was heading back to his room for a quick shower before he planned to meet Jared for brunch. The hotel was classical romantic, filled with red stone floors and archways. Yellow lanterns hung from the ceiling and vibrant plants decorated the lobby. Sounds of birds echod along with the chatter of guests. Jensen made his way to the elevator, pushing for the doors to close.

“¡Espera!” A voice called before a hand then, an arm appeared; stopping the doors from closing.

As you made your way into the elevator, Jensen caught his breath. Despite the lack of helmet hair or a uniform, he recognized you immediately.

“Lo siento y gracias.” You spoke in your broken middle school level Spanish.

You pushed your button before looking to meet the stranger; both of you staring at each other, his soft green eyes invited you in. You looked away, blushing for the moment that lasted too long.

“Oh, um… No hablo Espanol.” Jensen stumbled.

“Oh.” You laughed, picking up on his accent. “Me neither, at least not well, but I am picking it back up little by little the more time I spend here.”

Both of you remained silent glancing at your feet, waiting for the elevator moving slowly up.

“So um…” Jensen dared to speak again. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but uh, you look very similar to Clelia Esposio.” He kicked himself for asking a question he often was asked by fans. He knew you could easily blow him off if you weren’t interested.

You smiled and bit your lip, but excitement won over and you widely grinned, the victory of yesterday still resonating with you. “Actually that is because… I am…”

“Wow.” Jensen sighed. “You had an amazing race yesterday. I was there, watching the entire time.” 

“Hopefully not rooting for Suarez, that pig. Oh, don’t tell anyone I said that. Could cause a huge PR Scandal.” You laughed still getting used to all the publicity.

Jensen clearly understood. “You have my word.” He sincerely promised.

The atmosphere was suddenly interrupted as the elevator unexpectedly jolted down and then up again. You yelped and clung to the sides. The doors partially opened showing a concrete wall and then shut again. The elevator halted, the lights went off with only a dim light flashing. Jensen came from the corner he held steady to, to test the doors but they refused to open.

“Jeez.” He complained, taking a phone corded to the wall. “Hola. Ah yes, um… the elevator.” He looked at you desperate. “I have no idea what he is saying.” He whispered.

You gritted your teeth. “I can try.” You took the phone from him. “Hola Senor. Si, el ascensor no trabajar. Si. Mas despacio, por favor… uh huh. Si. Que?! Tres horas?! No. Senor. Por favor. Si, si… okay. Gracias.” You hung up and looked hopelessly at Jensen. “They are aware of the problem and have already contacted a crew, but it could take up to three hours.” You sat down on the floor defeated.

Jensen’s stomach grumbled and he joined you on the floor. Though he was hungry, he couldn’t help but be excited to steal more of your time. After a few minutes of silence, he dared to start a conversation again.

“Sorry for the, uh.” He peeled the sweaty shirt from his chest. “Smell. Went bike riding this morning, the pedaling kind.”

“Oh no problem, I think you smell good.” A blush hit you after you realized what you said. “Sorry, that was weird. Its fine, it smells fine, I mean not horrible. Um… So, you been a fan of MotoGP long?” You nervously ran your hand through your hair, trying to change the topic.

“Yeah, I mean no. I actually just found out about it. This was my first race and I learned about everything this weekend from my friend Jared who bought the tickets.” He explained. “But I think I will probably be a fan from now on.”

“You from the states?” You asked.

“Yeah Texas originally, then moved to Cali. Now I spend most of my time between Vancouver and Austin.” He rambled.

“Those are like opposites.” You pointed two fingers at an imaginary map to visualize the distance. “Cause of work or family?”

“Work.” He briefly stated. 

“And what do you do?” You asked.

“Uh, me and Jared are actors.” Jensen shook his head, almost embarrassed.

“Wow.” Your eyes lit up. “Anything I would know?”

He laughed. “Mainly a TV show called Supernatural.”

Your brows furrowed as you tried to recall if you had seen it. “So like… monsters, and ghosts?”

“Yeah. It’s about two brothers who save people and hunt things, the family…” He stopped himself. “Yeah, like vampires and werewolves and shit.”

You stifled a giggle. “I guess I’ll have to check it out.”

“Oh, you don’t have to say that.” He waved off.

“No, I want to.” You promised. “So Jared and um.. What was your name again?”

“Jensen.” He reached out his hand and shook yours. “Jensen Ackles.”

Your tongue peeked out between your teeth. “Is that like a stage name?”

Jensen’s shoulders shook as he silently laughed. “Nope, that’s my real name.”

“You can tell me.” You pushed. “Clelia Esposio is…” You pointed your finger at him very seriously. “But you can’t tell anyone.” Your demeanor eased. “My real name is Y/N Y/L/N. It’s weird, only family and a few friends know.”

“Well Y/N.” Your name sounded enticing rolling off his tongue. “It is very nice to officially meet you. But I promise my only name is Jensen.”

“Fine then.” You pretended to pout. “Keep your secrets.”

He chuckled. Though the minutes dragged on, you and Jensen filled up the time chatting, getting to know each other, talking travel, playing 20 questions and would you rather. And what was three hours, both of you wished was longer. The lights blinked back on and the elevator shook to life. Both you and Jensen stood up, steadying yourselves against the wall. The elevator was heading back down to the lobby.

“I guess this is it.” You stated.

“I can say without a doubt, would recommend 10 out of 10 getting stuck in this elevator.” He joked. “But perhaps it was only the company.”

You bit your lip. “Ah, but if it wasn’t posted to twitter, who’s to say it happened at all.” You teased back.

Jensen thought about it, and gave it. “Actually, you’re right.” He took his phone out of his pocket. “Do you mind? To commemorate the moment.”

“Of course not.” You smiled.

You leaned in close to him, grinning widely as his lips held tightly together forming a slight smirk. 

He looked down at it and smiled ear to ear. “Perfect.”

“Find a good filter.” You pleaded. “I don’t want to look ugly.”

Jensen scoffed. “That’s not possible.” 

You found heat rising to your cheeks yet again. “Say uh, are you and Jared in town tomorrow night still? Perhaps we could go for tapas and dancing.” 

“Yeah.” Jensen agreed. “I’d love that.”

“Wonderful. Meet me tomorrow night at Casa Montana? 11?” You asked.

“That should work.” He believed.

“Let me know officially through your tweet.” You winked. 

Jensen was about to ask for your number when the doors being pried open silenced you both. When they finally busted open, your freedom in containment was broken by the assault of flashing cameras.

“Ms. Esposio. Ms. Esposio. Clelia!” A crowd of Spanish reporters called.

Hotel security escorted you through the lobby, evading the group to the best of their ability. Jensen was left alone and unnoticed except for a bell clerk suffering through an attempt at an English apology. Before you were brought to a guarded service hall, you turned around to glance at Jensen once more, subtly licking your lips and parting with a wink.


End file.
